I Wanna Be ‘Enough’ Happy.

Mike and I just got back from five days in Coronado celebrating two things I wasn't about to let slip by unnoticed:

36 years of marriage.💍👰‍♀️💒

And me being cancer-free. 🥳🥳🥳

Which seems like the kind of occasion that calls for something BIG, doesn't it?

A fancy resort. Oceanfront suite. Room service delivered by someone named Pierre. Perhaps a swan folded out of a bath towel wearing a tiny party hat.

Instead, we stayed at this little lodge with maybe 15 rooms.

No sprawling resort.

No enormous lobby with a chandelier the size of Rhode Island.

No resort fee.

No parking fee.

No $9 bottle of water sitting on the nightstand threatening you if you break the seal.

Just a big comfortable bed, a Jacuzzi tub, a gas fireplace, a beautiful little garden and patio, a full breakfast every morning, and happy hour every afternoon with appetizers and drinks.

And not a child in sight.

Which, depending on how you feel about children screaming "MARCO!" while you're trying to read a book, may have been the finest amenity of all.

We ate breakfast outside in the garden every morning.

We walked to dinner.

We sailed around San Diego Bay.

We golfed.

We sat on the beach.

We wandered around.

We met some nice people who were also on vacation.

And sometimes we did absolutely nothing.

There was nothing particularly extravagant about any of it.

And that's the part I can't stop thinking about.

Because it was enough.

Actually, it was more than enough.

And I'm beginning to wonder when enough became such an unpopular word.

Nobody tells you to build an enough business.

They tell you to scale it.

Nobody congratulates you for having enough money.

You're supposed to make more.

Enough clients?

Get more.

Enough followers?

Grow your audience.

Enough house?

Have you seen the one with the bigger kitchen?

Enough cleavage?

Okay, fine. I have enough cleavage.

FINALLY, SOMETHING I'VE OVERACHIEVED AT.

But almost everywhere else in life, “enough” sounds suspiciously like settling.

And I'm starting to wonder why.

We spend half our lives trying to get MORE and the other half buying storage bins at Costco to organize all the shit we got.

And I'm certainly not immune to this.

I've wanted more.

I've worked for more.

I've worried about whether we'll have enough.

I've looked around at what other people have and wondered if maybe I should want some of that, too.

You probably have, too.

Maybe your "more" isn't money.

Maybe it's more clients.

More time.

More recognition.

More travel.

More square footage.

More security.

More proof that you're doing life correctly.

Whatever the hell that means.

But lately I'm starting to wonder if we've been asking ourselves the wrong question.

What if instead of asking:

How do I get more?

We started asking:

What is enough?

What does enough money look like?

Enough success?

Enough work?

Enough house?

Enough stuff?

Enough people around your dinner table?

Enough stamps in your passport?

And maybe the harder one:

Would you recognize enough if you already had it?

Because I don't think enough means settling.

I don't think it means you stop wanting things, dreaming things, or doing ridiculous things that make other people wonder if you've lost your mind.

I still want adventures.

I still want to build things.

I still want to travel.

I still want to make money.

I still want a nice place to live.

I still want Mike to take me somewhere fabulous for our 37th anniversary. (Mike, if you're reading this, "enough" is not permission to take me to Applebee's.)

But I'm starting to think there's a difference between wanting something because it would add something wonderful to your life...

...and wanting more because you've never stopped to decide when you have enough.

Maybe that's why this little 15-room lodge got to me.

We were there to celebrate something enormous.

Thirty-six years together.

Cancer-free.

Being alive and healthy enough to sail and golf and walk on the beach and sit across from each other over breakfast in a garden.

And somehow the celebration didn't need to be enormous, too.

Maybe the enormous part was already sitting at the table.

So now I'm curious.

What's enough for you?

Not what you're supposed to want next.

Not what would look impressive to someone scrolling past it.

Not what would make you feel like you've finally caught up.

What's the amount—the life—the version of success where you could look around and think:

You know what?

This is pretty damn good.

I'm not sure I have my answer yet.

But I have a feeling it'll be an interesting question to live with.

I have lots of new questions I'll be asking.

I hope you'll hang out here with me so we can discover the answers together.

With all my more enough, kinda galore heart,

XOXOXO,

Barbara